


Paradise City

by polishmyarmor



Series: The Long and Winding Road [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-16
Updated: 2011-12-16
Packaged: 2017-10-27 10:38:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/294884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polishmyarmor/pseuds/polishmyarmor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bela and Jo meet at the Road House--but can Bela get what she needs and get out without getting attached?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paradise City

**Author's Note:**

  * For [furloughday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/furloughday/gifts).



> For the purposes of this story (set roughly during season 2), Pastor Jim hasn't died yet.

Jo was taking the trash out to the dumpster when she saw it. A Mercedes that shone like an angel's halo pulled into the dusty parking lot. Out stepped a lanky brunette in enormous, movie-star sunglasses. Jo stood, one Hefty bag leaking beer in her left hand, the lid to the dumpster in her right, unmoving. Nobody that looked like that ever came to the Road House. She’s probably lost, Jo thought, probably needs directions someplace. But she knew that, this far out, she’d have to be really lost. Jo sighed. Of course, dumb brunettes. No one ever expected them, but they were all around. Jo dumped her trash and walked inside, ready to laugh smugly at someone who couldn’t even find the interstate.

“I’m looking for a man called Ash,” the Brunette had her hands palm down on the bar, pushing herself away as she asked Ellen, “do you know where I can find him?”

“That depends on who’s lookin’, and how much they’re offerin.” Ellen replied, drying a glass disinterestedly.

“Look,” the Brunette replied, “I need his help finding a weapon to destroy,” and here, the Brunette ducked her head towards Ellen and dropped her voice to a whisper, “a golem.”

“Huh.” Ellen picked up a new glass to dry. “Did you try talking to a rabbi?”

“Why, no, what a clever idea! I should just go up to a rabbi and ask how to kill a monster raised to protect the Jewish people, and he’d be fine with that, right?” When the Brunette got angry, her underbite grew more pronounced, her jaw jutting out in fury and pride. Jo watched the exchange. She knew that her mom was trying to figure out whether or not this chick was trustworthy, but she also knew that the chick did not look like she would back down until she got what she came for.

“Alright, alright. Well, have you tried Pastor John?”

“You mean Pastor Jim, and yes, I have, and before you ask, I’ve also tried Rufus, and Mississippi, too, and they’ve all come up short, which is why I need to talk to Ash.”

Ellen put down the dried glass on the bar. “He’s not available right now, darlin’ but can I get you a drink?”

“If you need to slip me holy water, just do it, alright, I haven’t got all day.”

Ellen glared, silent, and Jo walked behind the bar, to stand beside her.

“It’s all got holy water in it—what do you want to drink?” Jo squared her shoulders, ready to tousle with anyone who got lippy with her mother.

“Fine. Whiskey neat please. And when will he be free?”

Jo thumped the glass on the bar, making the whiskey slosh inside the glass, and waited for the Brunette to take a sip before answering. “You’ll see him when he wakes up.”

“And when do you suppose that will be?”

“ Dunno, it varies—he only sang “Paradise City” on the bar twice last night, so it shouldn’t be too long.”

“I’m up!” said a voice from behind a pool table. “Someone need me?”

“Yes. Me.”

“And who might you be, madam?” Ash asked, brushing his dirty blond mullet from his shoulder and sidling up alongside the Brunette.

“Penny,” the Brunette replied, “And I need some information.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind havin’ you owe me a favor,” Ash replied, grinning in what he imagined to be a lascivious and charming fashion.

“No favors, just cash.” Penny replied.

Ash moved back a step, rubbing a hand over his stomach. “Well, I don’t know if I can help ya, but for,” Ash’s eyes squinted upward as he calculated PBRs and hot wings in his head, “two large, I think I can manage just about anything.”

“Fine. I need a weapon that can kill a Golem, and I need it fast.”

As Ash began his conjecture with Penny, (“Have you talked to Pastor Jim?”), Jo turned to her mother and asked, sotto voce, “Doesn’t Luella have a stash of Judaica out in Deming?”

“What was that?” Penny demanded. Apparently, Jo wasn’t as subtle as she thought.

“Nothin’. I was just trying to remember who we knew that might be able to help you.”

“Can you give me Luella’s information?”

“Dammit, Jo! I was about to pay my tab with that money!” Ash complained.

“That barely makes a dent in your tab, Ash; and yes, I can.”

Penny pulled a roll of hundreds out of her purse and peeled off two thousand dollars. “Her phone number and address please.”

“Sure, but she won’t talk to you.”

“I can make her talk to me.” Penny replied, bullishly.

“No. You can’t.” Jo smirked. “You’ve met other hunters before, right? Paranoid at the best of times and always armed? She won’t walk to you.”

Penny lowered her head, looking at Jo out of intense, hooded eyes. “She’ll talk to me.”

“Okay, sure. It’s been…well, I was going to say nice, but, it’s been real, anyhow.” And Jo turned around and began drying glasses with her mother.

Three weeks passed before Penny walked into the bar again, this time with a distinct limp.


End file.
